was capable of such things himself.

It is a bit odd that as I come to write of him, this small witticism
of half a century back should thrust itself obstinately into my
memory, but after all it may not be out of place. The impression of
the greatness of a mountain we get powerfully if the eye can measure
it from the waif of seaweed at low tide up to the snow-cap of the
summit. At this and similar jokes the boy Simon Newcomb connived, as
he moved in our crowd. They were the waifs at low tide from which his
towering mind rose to the measuring of the courses of the stars. He
came among us as a student of the Lawrence scientific school, muscular
and heavy-shouldered from work on shore and at the oar in Nova Scotia.
Though not slovenly, he was the reverse of trim. His rather outlandish
clothes, pressed once for all when they left the shop of the
provincial tailor, held his sturdy elbows and knees in bags moulded
accurately to the capacious joints. His hair hung rebelliously, and
his nascent beard showed an untrained hand at the razor. But his
brow was broad, his eye clear and intelligent, and he was a man to
be reckoned with. He was barely of age, but already a computer in the
_Nautical Almanac_ office, then located at Cambridge, and we
well knew work of that sort required brains of the best. Since Simon
Newcomb's death an interesting story has been told about his heredity.
His strong-brained father, measuring his own qualities with rigid
introspection, discovering where he was weak and where capable
resolved that whatever wife he chose should supplement in her
personality the points to which he lacked. He would father sons and
daughters who should come into the world well appointed; in particular
he looked toward offspring who should possess high scientific gifts.
With this mind he set out on his courting, and steering clear of vain
entanglements with rather preternatural coolness, at last in a remote
village, satisfied himself that he had found his complement. He
permitted his docile heart to fall in love, and in due course there
was born into the world a great man. The wooing has a humorous
aspect,--this steering of unruly Hymen! The calculated result,
however, did not fail of appearance, and perhaps the world might
profit from such an example. I was strongly drawn toward Simon Newcomb
by his unlikeness to myself. I was town-bred and he full of strength
gained in the fields and along the beach. My own disinclination for